“Baseball mitts. You want me to get baseball mitts,” Jensen replied, his expression disdainful.

“Yea. Baseball mitts. You know. Big leather gloves. People use them to catch baseballs. Any sports store will have them,” John replied, grinning at Jensen’s perplexed expression.

“Sir. In my tenure here, I have procured many items for you and for Mr. Dimera. Weapons, explosives, women if I remember, I was once even asked to obtain a ‘pound of dank’ as you put it. I do not believe you have ever requested ‘baseball mitts’ before.”

“Times change, Jensen get with the program. I need baseball mitts.”

“Baseball mitts… Of course, sir.”

Marlena awoke smiling, the scent of fresh brewed coffee wafting in to her from the sitting room. John had taken to bringing up a fresh pot every morning and then sitting with the kids as they made plans for the day. It wasn’t coffee in bed, but it was the next best thing. Wiping the sleep from her eyes, she crawled out of bed and tossed a robe on over the sheer white nightgown she had slept in. Moving stiffly, she went to get a cup before taking her morning shower.

“Mornin,” she drawled, surprised to find him sitting alone on the sofa.

“Howdy,” he replied, flashing her a grin. “Well, stop the presses. Dr. Marlena Evans is actually out of bed before her children. This is one for the record books!”

Sitting back, he watched with pleasure as she walked through the room. He loved the way she looked when she was fresh from sleep the artless beauty, the dreamy sensuality. With a start, he pulled himself back to the present and tried to ignore the flash of leg that peeked from beneath the gauzy material of her gown. Realizing he hadn’t heard a word she’d said to him, he simply grunted an “Um hm,” in response to her questioning look.

“‘Um hm’ what?” she asked, a mischievous look in her eyes.

“‘Um hm’ to whatever you said,” he answered sheepishly.

“I said, you really pooped them out. You guys were gone all day, hiking up to the mountain. They were exhausted last night when they got in.”

“Yea, I’m feeling it myself. I swear, they can run me into the ground, now. They grew up so quick I forget they aren’t little kids anymore. I was so lucky to have them in my life,” he finished with a small sigh.

“You were a good father to them,” she answered softly. “We raised three beautiful children together, John. They were lucky to have you for a father. You will always be a part of them, a part of who they are.”

Staring into the steaming mug he held in his hand, he contemplated her words and prayed that she was wrong. “I’m sorry, Marlena. Sorry for everything I stole from you. From the children. I tricked you into letting me into your life. Tricked you into… into caring for me. I had no right to be with you.” He shifted guiltily and fought the urge to flee, the urge to hide from the hurt he had caused her. He knew she could never forgive what he had done, but he still craved her absolution.





She looked down on his bowed head, struck by how alone he now was. For fourteen years, he had raised their children, slept in her bed. Now he was reduced to stolen moments of time, stolen moments that would soon come to an end. Sitting across from him, she resisted the impulse to take him into her arms. “You have nothing to be sorry for, John. You didn’t know who you were when you came to me. You are no more at fault than I am. I’m the one who told you that you were Roman. It was my decision to bring you into my life. The fault doesn’t lie in you, John.”

He gave a sharp shake of his head. “I should have known I wasn’t Roman. I should have realized that I wasn’t a man you could love. I didn’t see it because I didn’t want to see it, Marlena.”

He raised his head and she found herself caught in the haunted depths of his eyes. Her heart would not allow him to believe such a lie and she spoke without thinking. “I didn’t fall in love with you because I thought you were Roman. I fell in love with you despite who I thought you were. I have never loved anyone like I loved you. I never will.”





Her soft words cut him like no knife ever could. The anger washed over him and he sprang to his feet. Stalking stiffly away from her, he tried to distance himself from the ache her presence created. “You would never have loved me if you had known what I was. If you had known the things I had done, you would have run as far and as fast as you could.” He grated the words out, hating himself for what he had done to her. Hating the fact that he knew he would do it all again.

He was right. She would have run. If she had known what he was, she would have put oceans between them. Yet her heart told her it wouldn’t have mattered. In the end, only death would have kept them apart. Despite her better judgement, she went to him, stopping only when she reached his side. “I hate what you’ve done, John. I hate that you’ve killed that you killed for Stefano. But I know you. I know you as no one else ever could. John, that isn’t who you are. The man who raised my children, the man who shared my life he was a good man. He was the man I wanted to grow old with. That man is a part of you, John. You could be that man again.”

He heard the longing in her voice and realized his folly. He would give her anything. Anything she asked. Anything but this. He shook his head, cursing the day he was born. Gently, he reached out and pushed a strand of golden hair from her face. “You should be home. You should be home with your husband and your children. You should never have been touched by this ugliness. But I brought you to this, Marlena. I brought you to this ugly place because it is what I am. Pain and blood and death it’s what I was born to, Doc. I’m sorry if I ever made you believe otherwise.”

Her eyes widened, unshed tears making them brighten in a bitter parody of joy. He dropped his hand from her face and turned away. “I’m meeting with Stefano in a few minutes. We should be moving on the Brotherhood soon. You’ll be home within the week Marlena, and you won’t have to worry about me or Dimera again.”

“Hey! What ya thinkin’ about,” Carrie called, joining him beneath the branches of a large old Maple tree. Leaning against the rough bark, his attention was fixed on the baseball he was tossing casually into the air.

“Trying not to think,” he replied with a small grin. Breaking his rhythm, John tossed the ball over to Carrie.

With a nod of understanding, Carrie lobbed the ball back and sank down beside John on the grass. Their shoulders touching, she relaxed against the tree and studied the surrounding meadowland.

“You picked a good spot for that,” she said. “What is it that you’re ‘not’ thinking about?”

He chuckled and tossed the ball high into the air, watching it as it hit its zenith, hanging for a moment high in the air before crashing back to the earth. The leather slapped hard against his hand as it landed and with a sigh he dropped the ball onto the dirt beneath him. “I hurt your mother,” he finally answered. “I always hurt her, even though it is the last thing on earth that I want to do.”

“She was crying,” Carrie replied uncertainly. “When I got up this morning, she was crying. She tried to pretend she wasn’t. When I asked what had happened, she just said she was happy. She was happy because you told her we would go home soon. But… she didn’t look happy.”

The last of the bright leaves danced in the breeze, their soft rustling lulling his mind. “She wants me to be something I’m not,” he muttered. “She keeps clinging to this illusion, this fantasy that I’m still the same. She knows better, but she still tries to believe. I think she blames Stefano, thinks he turned me into something… made me be something I’m not. She won’t see that the sickness is inside me, it’s not something I can choose, something I can… excise.” In exasperation, he grabbed the ball and flung it far out into the field.

She chuckled at his phrasing, picking absently at the grass around her. “That’s what Sami thinks. Eric too. They think you’re just protecting them. Protecting Mom. I think Sami sees you as ‘Supercop’ or something I keep expecting her to knit you a cape.”

“How about you? What do you think” he asked, watching her out of the corner of his eye.

Sitting forward, she tilted her head to face him. “I think you still like it. I think you still like to kill. I think it makes you feel good and I don’t think you ever feel guilty about it.”

Startled, he looked over at her. Her eyes were clear and calm and for an instance he would have sworn she must be his blood. Finally, he grinned. “Well I am starting to feel guilty that I don’t feel guilty. That’s got to count for something.”

“Very faint praise,” she replied, once again leaning back against the rough wood.

“How’d you get so smart?”

“I did what you said,” she replied, twirling a long blade of grass between her fingers. “I thought about what you told me. About everything that I knew. I finally figured it out.”

“Enlighten me,” he prodded, curious despite himself.

“Well… I thought about how you met Stefano. About what he did to you while you were on that island. I thought about what you did to bring Mom home to us. What you are doing now to protect all of us. I figured it out. You’re scared. Your whole life, you’ve always been scared. And the only time you aren’t scared… I think you fight because it’s the only time you aren’t scared.” She studied the blade of grass as it whirled between her fingers. “Anyway, that’s what I think.”

“I don’t think anyone has ever accused me of being afraid,” he said wryly.

“I’m not anyone I’m your daughter. I can see it in your eyes. Every time you look at Marlena. Every time you look at Sami, or Eric, or me. Every time, it’s like your watching, waiting for something to happen. Waiting for something to take us away from you. I told you I’ve lost a lot of people I loved, so I know that look. I’ve worn it myself. You’re afraid you’re going to lose us, so you push us away. I know what that feels like.”

“You are too young to have so much experience with loss,” he said, studying the ground between his feet.

“So were you,” she answered, searching his face. “You never did tell my why you were all alone when Stefano found you.”

“Nope, I never did,” he admitted with a smile, tilting his head in order to catch her eye. “You know what’s worse than always fearing you are going to lose the people you love? What’s worse is knowing that you are the one who will destroy them.”

She shook her head, her voice a whisper. “You would never do that, Dad. I know that you would never do anything that would harm us.”

Giving an ugly chuckle, he looked away from the innocence he found in her eyes. “Do you ever wonder, ever think that sometimes God is angry? And in his anger, he spits out a curse?”

“I don’t believe in curses,” she replied, watching him as he levered himself to his feet.

Looking down at her, he flashed a small smile. “Stick with me and you will.”

-----